


Phonecalls

by blankdomain



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 04:03:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12357048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blankdomain/pseuds/blankdomain
Summary: Depression is a long journey that is not conquered alone.These are six phone calls that Dan receives throughout his own journey that impact his life.





	1. Pt. I

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ!!!
> 
> DISCLAIMERS: I am not Dan Howell so everything that I write, please take with a grain of slat. Depression affects everyone differently, and although I have gone through the process of therapy, and antidepressants for depression and anxiety I can not realistically describe what it has been like for Dan. I also have no way to know the timeline of Dan's treatment. This was just me making a very loose approximation based on some things he mentioned on his video. 
> 
> I also have no relation with any of the people portrayed, so I have no way to realistically show what they act in person. If you have any questions about anyone mentioned, or in general, please leave a comment below and I will answer it, but please please don't go search for them on the internet if you have the intention to ask about anything to do with this matter. (Privacy is important!)
> 
> Lastly, my intention for this story was not to speak or represent Dan's or anyone's emotions revolving this matter. It is to show anyone who may be going through depression that as tempting as it is to isolate yourself, sometimes-most times- picking up the phone, answering your door, or accepting that one hug can make a huge difference! Depression is hard! Tell people about it and help yourself! Even if it is to that one old person on the bus, or that one bird in the park that keeps picking at your shoes. 
> 
> Slightly less important note: I have been working on this for the past couple days, and although it is not completed I am itching to get it up. It will be completed by the end of next week for sure. (I might actually just go and finish this tomorrow) This was supposed to be one shot, but it got too long so I had to break it up. There will be 6 phone-calls, all leading up to the year 2017. 
> 
> Okay this has gotten too long. Hope you enjoy :)

November 14, 2012

 

It had substantially been a good week. Well according to Phil, it had been a good week. Dan would not dare say it was a good week, or even a great week, but it had been okay.

 

He brushed his teeth every day, he showered twice, and even cooked himself a meal a day that was not microwavable popcorn.

 

Maybe it _had_ been a good week.

 

Now it was Sunday, the Holiest day of the week and Dan could not get himself out of bed.

 

Thirty minutes had passed since he first opened his eyes and all he had done was shift positions slightly. He took several deep breaths and desperately sent silent pleas to his mind hoping it would revive.

 

He knew he was not dead. No, he could hear his loud heart working overtime. He knew the feeling would not last. He knew the logistics and he could deal with them. This was normal and he was okay with it.

 

_Ring-Ring. Ring-Ring._

 

A lifeline only a few centimeters away.

 

_Ring-Ring. Ring-Ring._

 

 _Ring-Ring-_ Silence _._

 

“Fuck,” he cursed. He was frustrated now. Maybe because it could have been Phil calling from the BBC Radio meeting, or maybe he was frustrated because he could not care less.

 

_Ring-Ring. Ring-Ring._

 

“Pull it together,” he muttered.

 

_Ring-Ring. Ring-Ring._

 

He picked up the phone and answered without bothering to check to see who it was or what the time was.

 

He waited.

 

“Hello?” A lovely voice rang like music to his muted brain. It was his grandma.

 

“Hello grandma,” he replied in a whisper feeling a sort of relief he would not dare question.

 

“Are you alright, dear?” She questioned immediately.  

 

Dan could not reply.

 

“Daniel?” She tried again.

 

He could breathe, he knew he could. “Yes, sorry. Just waking up,” he finally replied.

 

“It is 3 in the afternoon, darling!” She exclaimed letting out a soft laughter.

 

He kicked himself, cringing at the thought of disappointing her.

 

She spoke again before he could answer her, “Are you sleeping well?”

 

“Ha,” he chuckled. “Yeah, it was just a long night.”

 

“Are you sure you are alright?” She asked again, concern appearing more heavily.

 

“Of course I am,” he replied biting his own tongue. “How have you been?”

 

“Oh, I have been well,” she replied. “I am just leaving Sunday Mass right now actually.”

 

“Mhmm,” Dan simply sighed.

 

“The sermon today was very heartwarming,” she began. “Would you like to hear it?”

 

“Sure,” he replied.

 

“It was about a young man who was very poor. He would run several errands for people and pick trash up all through the night in order to make money. Travelers felt pity towards him and would give him food from time to time, but nothing seemed to change how dirty and sick he looked. The story goes that one day an officer decided to follow him thinking he would catch him buying drugs. He discovered that any money or food this man would receive throughout the day, he would go and give it to other homeless people.”

 

“That is nice, isn’t it?” Dan inquired.

 

“In a level it was, but on the other hand the poor man was just staying in this same cycle of despair,” she responded.

 

“Yeah, but other people needed help.” Dan argued, feeling more life in him than he had felt all week.

 

“Well he did too, didn’t he?” She opposed.

 

“How do we know he didn’t try helping himself?” Dan felt an urge to defend the actions of this man.

 

“Well it was quite evident, wasn’t it?” His grandma counter-replied.

 

Dan remained silent.

 

“The priest followed along to say that although it is more than okay to be humble and help others, at times it is important to put our own needs first before anything else,” she continued.

 

Dan could feel a few tears on his cheeks. “Well that is not very selfless,”  he tried.

 

“You’re right. I suppose, sometimes we have to be selfish,” she concluded.

 

“I suppose we do,” Dan agreed letting out a cough hoping it would mask his trembling lips.

 

A loud crash rang through the phone. His grandma let out a loud laugh, “Oh dear! Can I call you back in the evening? Petunia just dropped all of  the tomatoes on the floor!”

 

“Sure thing,” he said wiping away the tears.

 

“Alright, bye sweetheart!”

 

Dan hung up the phone and stood up.


	2. Pt. II

October 20, 2013

 

Phil was visiting family. He had been gone for the past three days and was supposed to have arrived today, but he missed the train and now he wasn’t set to leave until tomorrow evening.

 

Dan was busy. Currently, he was sitting in his desk attempting to finish editing his newest video. He had finished the talking aspect for the most part and he had finally decided that the title “SMOKING IS COOL” was good enough. It would attract people at least.

 

It was almost ten o'clock  and although his brain was begging for rest, he refused to go to bed until he finished. He had been lazy enough for the past week rolling around in the floor.

 

_Ring-Ring. Ring-Ring._

 

He looked over instantly in order to see who was calling his phone at such a late hour.

 

It was Bryony.

 

_Ring-Ring. Ring-Ring._

 

He should answer. In an ideal world he would already be in bed not having this dilemma to begin with.

 

He picked up the phone. “ ‘ello,” he greeted hoping he sounded more excited than he felt.

 

“Let me talk!” Someone said.

 

“It’s my phone!” Bry argued.

 

Dan placed the call on speaker and let it drop onto his desk.

 

“Hello materino!” Bry finally said after a minute of shuffling around.

 

“I am here too!” Wirrow cut in before Dan could reply. They both sounded excited.

 

“What did I do to get this grand pleasure at such an ungodly hour?” Dan asked leaning back against his chair letting his head fall backwards.

 

“You have ignored every single text message I have sent for the past week,” Bry replied. She didn’t sound angry though, in fact it sounded as if she was mock scolding him.

 

“Phone has been acting up,” Dan explained picking up his phone up from the table. He began scratching the small bump that had taken shape earlier that week.

 

“I smell a lie!” Wirrow said, sounding farther away from the phone than Bry was.

 

It wasn’t a lie in particular, he had dropped his phone on the kitchen causing it to act a bit twitchy. Was it enough to not reply to the messages? Realistically, no.

 

“Do you know how many messages I have sent?” Bryony asked. “Twenty-fucking-three messages,” she declared.

 

“Where are your morals, Mr. Daniel?” Wirrow mocked.

 

Dan sighed heavily not knowing what to reply. He had seen all of the messages and if he was honest he had assumed he must have replied to one of them.

 

He loved his friends and more often than not he loved their energy as well, but he was not in the mood for being reminded that life was full with reasons to live right now.

 

“That’s almost stalker level,” Dan joked hoping he could avoid their inevitable questions.

 

Bry laughed before suddenly becoming silent again. “ I am being serious, I thought you had died or some shit,” she said.

 

“Evidently I did not,” Dan said.

 

“No shit Sherlock,” Wirrow muttered.

 

Dan remained silent swinging his chair back so if he leaned back just a bit too fast it would be unstable and he would end up falling.

 

“I had to text Phil,” Bry continued heaving a large sigh.

 

Dan shuddered.

 

“That’s right, we called in the big guns,” Wirrow laughed, probably assuming Dan wanted to kill them both.

 

“Well shit. Sorry, I guess I was busy,” Dan said rolling his eyes.  

 

“You guess?” Bry questioned.

 

“Look, next time I will make sure to text you everything I am doing at every second of my day. I will even include any bowel movement,” Dan said feeling himself become more agitated by the second.

 

Bry sighed, again. Her and Wirrow seemed to be having a low conversation, but their muttering was too low for Dan to hear.

 

Dan began to think of excuses to give in order to hang up this call and not seem like a dick.

 

Bryony spoke first. “Dan I get that this communication thing is not one of your favorite hobbies, but we care about you. I don’t need to know what you do every second or every hour of your day. I just want to know that I won’t have to prepare a funeral speech next week, or any week for that matter,” Bry said.

 

Everything stopped. Dan felt all oxygen leave him.

 

Wirrow began to complain about the suit he would have to wear and how he wasn’t particularly fond of funerals, despite popular opinion.

 

Dan was not listening anymore.

 

Three months ago he had finally gone to see a doctor. The doctor said what countless others had said and diagnosed him with clinical depression. He recommended therapy, pills, and a countless other methods. Dan refused all of them. He could handle depression. The doctor very clearly thought he was making the wrong choice, but simply suggested that Dan tell at least three people of the situation he was in.  

 

Phil had already known, but after his doctor appointment they both sat in the lounge and talked more about it. Phil seemed disappointed as well that he was not going to receive treatment. Phil stuck with him though, and simply told Dan that if at any point he wanted to change his answer he could.

 

Dan told told three other people the following two months after his appointment. Everyone had  reacted positively and encouraged him to reach out for help. Everything had been covered.

 

Everything except suicide.

 

Dan knew he was not going to go jump off a bridge tomorrow. More specifically, he knew suicide took too much effort. He knew this because he had thought about it once or twice when he was in the shower or awake at night, but he would never actually go through it. At least that is what he convinced himself to believe. 

 

Now, here was Bry telling him that she had thought about it.

 

Had Phil thought about it too?

 

“Dan?” Someone said over the phone.

 

Dan sat upright bringing the chair along with him.

 

“I did not mean it like _that_ ,” Bry said after a silent thirty seconds as if to justify why she would assume he was dead.

 

All this depression crap would be a lot easier if no one cared.

 

Dan looked at his hand and noticed it was shaking. He remained silent.

 

“I don’t want to alarm you, but you are scaring me,” Bry tried again.

 

Dan remained silent.

 

After a solid 45 seconds passed with nothing but a cough from Dan, Wirrow spoke up suddenly.“We are going over,” he declared.

 

“What?” Bry asked, presumably moving the phone away from her.

 

“We are going over,” Wirrow repeated again.

 

“It is not necessary, man.” Dan finally spoke feeling a surge of emotions rush over him.

 

He was exhausted. He wanted to simply not exist. He wanted to not start crying over this conversation. 

 

“Nope, not having it,” Wirrow argued. There was a lot of shuffling and some muttered conversations.

 

“Guys, it's late,” Dan tried.

 

“It has been decided,” Bry spoke sounding much farther away from the phone.

 

“No it has not,” Dan retorted.

 

“Yes it has,” Bry argued back. “We are going to go over and feed you ‘cause I am sure your dick ass memory forgot to remind you that three meals a day are essential to live.”

 

Dan remained silent.

 

“And I am going to run you the warmest fucking bath this world can offer,” Wirrow piped in. “I will even bring one of those insufferably scented bath bombs.”

 

Dan remained silent.

 

“Dan?” Wirrow questioned, as if realizing maybe their plan was too drastic.

 

Dan took a deep breath. “Door is unlocked, just um- when you get here - no need to knock.”  

 

“Great!” Wirrow replied sounding surprised.

 

“See you in 30!” Bry yelled.

 

Dan hung up the phone and let out a sob. 


	3. Pt. III

June 2, 2014  

 

Dan was anxiously sitting on their kitchen table starting intently at his phone, as if expecting it to run away.

 

Phil was sitting next to him. He was holding onto Dan’s right hand, gently rubbing it with his thumb.

 

“They are not calling,” Dan spoke. He was defeated.

 

“Still ten minutes left before the offices close,” Phil reasoned.

 

“No one makes a professional call when there is a time limit of ten minutes,” Dan replied.

 

“I don’t know, love. Most crime show mysteries are not solved until the bomb reaches the time limit of ten seconds,” Phil persists.

 

Dan takes away his eyes from his phone to look at Phil with a sad smile. “Phil it’s fine. I knew my insurance would probably reject the treatment.”

 

“You don’t though. There are eight minutes remaining Dan. You did all the paperwork, attended all the meetings, you should get this,” Phil says, squeezing onto Dan’s hand.

 

“I don’t have worms in my head or an amputated leg, my chances of this were fucking slim,” Dan says shaking his head turning to look at the phone again.

 

Phil leans in until Dan turns to face him again and slowly kisses him. “This is just as important as an amputated leg,” Phil whispers to him.

 

Dan scoffs.

 

They wait another minute until Dan finally stands up from the chair.

 

“It is not happening,” Dan declares as he begins to pace up and down their lounge.

 

Phil doesn’t reject the idea this time. Instead he stands up and opens his arms up as an invitation for a hug.

 

Dan accepts and allows Phil to squeeze his life away from him.

 

“If they do not call, we will figure something else out,” Phil says. “You have your prescription, we can pay for the pills out of pocket and we can find you a private therapist.”

 

Dan shakes at the thought that this man refuses to give up hope, to give up on him.

 

“Phil-”

 

He is cut off by a loud ringing noise. It was his phone.

 

“I can’t,” Dan lets out, suddenly terrified.

 

“You can,” Phil reassures pushing him towards the phone.

 

With shaking hands Dan goes to pick up the phone.

 

“Hello?” he answers.

 

“Hello. I am looking  for Daniel James Howell,” a man replies.

 

“That is me,” Dan replies feeling his stomach tie in a knot.

 

“Hey there, it's Doctor Connolley. I met with you two weeks ago regarding your symptoms of depression and talked about some of the options you had,” the doctor explains.

 

Dan nods his head before realizing he can’t actually see him. “Yes, that is correct,” he speaks out loud.

 

“Assuming that you are still interested, it is my pleasure to inform you that your insurance sent in the final paperwork needed this morning, so I can go ahead and send in the prescription of citalopram to your pharmacy of choice,” the doctor says.

 

Dan smiles wide heaving a sigh of relief. He looks up to see Phil staring at him intently, before also smiling widely once he noticed Dan’s expression. They both let out a sigh of relief.

 

“Great! Is it possible for me to actually pick up the medicine in your office?” Dan asked, thinking about the fact that he could potentially run into one of his viewers with a bag of prescribed drugs.

 

That alone terrified him.

 

“I suppose you could,” the doctor replies. “But it has to be you who picks them up with proof of identification.”

 

“Understood. Thank you!” Dan expresses.

 

“Now to the logistics: I have prescribed quite a low dose to begin with so we can see how your body reacts to the medicine. If that does not have any effect we can increase your dose after a few weeks,” the doctor explains

 

“Okay..” Dan says.

 

“Antidepressants affect everyone differently and you need to be prepared for the side effects, which we can go over more in depth when you come in to pick them up,” he continues.

 

Dan doesn’t reply, simply taking in the information.

 

“We will have to play around with the dose for a while until we find what is best for you, so I will like you to come in every two weeks for follow ups for at least the first six months,” the doctor says.

 

“Okay,” Dan replies nodding his head aggressively. He sits back down on the kitchen table and reaches for Phil’s hand.

 

“Along with the antidepressants it is highly encouraged to look into therapy as part of the treatment,” he says. “I will email you a few referrals for some, but you are more than free to look into private therapists.”

 

“Thanks,” Dan says not exactly knowing what to say.

 

“Any questions?” the doctor asks.

 

Dan looks up to see Phil already staring at him. “When will the prescription be ready for pick up?”

 

“Well seeing as it is Thursday, it should be ready by Tuesday morning. If anything changes I will make sure to have the receptionist call you,” the doctor replies.

 

“Great, thank you very much.” Dan says.

 

“It is my pleasure, see you Tuesday,” the doctor replies before hanging up.

 

Dan sets the phone down and turns to face Phil ready to explain all the details.

 

Before he can speak, Phil pulls him into a hug.


End file.
